


Sapphire

by AAluminium



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AAluminium/pseuds/AAluminium
Summary: Ms. All Sunday was allowed to play by ear.
Relationships: Crocodile & Nico Robin, Crocodile/Nico Robin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Sapphire

He had seen her at her worst. 

In fact, Crocodile barely remembered the moment she started working for him: after years of affiliation and partnership balancing on the verge of a more intimate relationship, the memory practically erased the event that brought the woman to the threshold of his luxurious office packed with sumptuous bric-a-bracs she never considered useful. As a chain smoker, he had a guillotine cigar cutter incrusted with gems just as bright as those in his rings. Ivory statuettes and figurines stood upon multiple shelves showing off ancient books. A huge elephant leg-shaped urn in the corner of the office made him look like a huge fan of safari that worked as a perfect disguise to those who didn’t know the man at all. The best rugs covered the floor that slightly creaked at the steps and smelled wood. A bar across his desk contained the most expensive beverages: Crocodile himself preferred strong drinks but the guests he welcomed could relish the flavor of the eminent champagne, wine, liqueur, port, cognac, gin, whiskey and whatever else their heart desired. 

Nico Robin was mentally put in the row of wines, undeniably red. Cunning and intoxicating, she provoked slow reaction: once yielded into her hands, the drinker would not be able to forego her influence. One couldn’t get enough of her until she used her outstanding skills and bring them into action. She always waited for the right moment, parsed the situation, made the decision and hit quickly – hit so hard into the head that left the man dumbfounded and thunderstruck. Crocodile was by no means a careless one, or so he thought; that’s why he believed that Nico Robin, no matter how skillful, gifted and extraordinary she was claimed to be, wielded no power to finagle the information she needed. She could not double cross him – definitely not. 

“Nico Robin,” the man drawled, his pale fingers tapping at the rim of the whiskey tumbler. “What brings you here?” 

Of course he had gleaned a few details about her: he was aware of the schemes she contrived and accomplished; he learnt everything about the organizations she breached in and disrupted from the inside. Using his position, he spent quite a while in the archives of the Marines to find out more facts about the girl who fled from ablaze Ohara two decades ago.  
She was no longer a child he saw on the wanted posters. There was no fear on the pale face; he spotted no consternation in the azure eyes of the weeping girl; he clearly saw a mature woman whose sangfroid could easily surpass his. Unlike many others before her, Nico Robin was not afraid of notorious Sir Crocodile. 

“Work,” came a dry simple reply. 

Crocodile’s golden eyes veered to look at the woman standing opposite him – the lack of intonation that would reveal her real intentions caused him to peruse her visage in attempt to pry into her mind. 

Tall, slender, unbending, the female was intently staring at the man sitting in the armchair. Her black hair, two inches lower her ears, exposed the jawline and the fine neck with visible tendons. For a moment he thought that such a woman deserved a necklace with a sapphire to rest in the dimple between the collarbones. 

“What do you expect from the job?” the man drawled idly, in a lackadaisical voice. For some vague reason, he felt ill at ease: quiet and motionless, distant and composed, Nico Robin intrigued him. This woman must’ve seen enough to learn the basics and burnish her deadly skills: although jockeying for her place in the sun, she wouldn’t resort to blatant flattery or beautiful lies. 

“Precision and accuracy,” came the dry reply. 

Precision and accuracy. Indeed. She didn’t want less from a man so notorious – and she didn’t even try to flatter him by ingratiating smiles and servile behavior which intrigued him even more. Crocodile realized that he finally found someone smart enough to rely upon while contriving schemes and cons, but on the other hand the man knew she saw though him predicting his ensuing actions and upcoming decisions. 

Unsettling. Crocodile loathed being in the position of his own employee, scrutinized and examined by the superior. 

…Miss All Sunday had been working for Sir Crocodile for years before the idea of building up an empire moulded and fortified in his mind. The whole notion seemed particularly tempting: a man with connections and acquaintances, Crocodile knew how to work out the kinks making the plan impeccable by perfecting the smallest details. He had already observed violations on the part of his fellow ‘colleagues’, especially Doflamingo. Even though he practically staged a coup, the leader of the Donquixote Family didn’t come under a tidal wave of criticism – the government connived at the odious crimes he committed. Would an organization disguised by a casino ever beat it? Hardly.

Crocodile learnt the details from the incumbent King of Dress Rosa himself – Nico Robin, highly intelligent, didn’t go into hiding and accompanied her boss to the private parties knowing how much that particular Donquixote nettled him. The sandman, suspicious, industrious and quiet until his plan accomplished and goals reached, detested Doflamingo’s braggadocio. With a glass of exquisite wine in hand, the new King of Dress Rosa boasted whenever he felt right – which meant constantly. 

In fact, Doflamingo’s lengthy soliloquy Crocodile tended to disregard, pushed her to contribute to the empire prospect: unlike her boss, Robin imbibed his words like a sponge. The woman offered the level system and the nicknames – while it may seem odd to some, her boss found it ‘charming’. That’s what he said – probably stating it to be a hallmark of the organization from now on. 

Mr. 0 he became. 

Ms. All Sunday she was. 

Ms. All Sunday was allowed to play by ear. 

In all honesty, she held no illusions as to what he was going to do to her when she was no longer needed: Robin fully comprehended his intentions and ulterior motives. Even though she managed to become irreplaceable, she knew she had to run amok as soon as she got the chance. For now, the devoted subordinate chose to simply enjoy the wide range of entertainments the rigorous man had to offer – though she never relinquished the hold of her graceful hand on the business. 

Unsettling. Sir Crocodile didn’t like that either. 

In a way, she enthralled, entranced him – and the realization gnawed at the man especially when she sat up on the bed, adjusted her short dark hair and stood up to grab her clothes and leave. It wasn’t their first time together; neither of them even remembered what drew them so close that they were ready to push the boundaries and forget about subordination. After all, they both cherished their loneliness but got fed up with it – stressed, abandoned and injured, they found another benefit of working in tow to avoid the emotional toll. 

“Where are you going? He asked in a low voice not even looking at the woman beside him but nonetheless smoking his cigar. 

“To work, I gather,” she replied calmly and, stark naked, stood up to approach the curtains. 

“Stay.” 

It didn’t sound like an order at all – albeit said in the same commanding tone, it resembled a simple request. She did suspect a gambit in it, a ruse to pry into her thoughts, but something inside her bludgeoned her to obey. 

They didn’t talk that morning. Sir Crocodile kept smoking his cigar, Robin lay next to him, swarthy and flexible, ready to retaliate in case of danger. Although she knew she was allowed to leave the chamber unharmed, she couldn’t impel herself to do it – and to lose the warmth she longed for too long. 

It may have been forged. It may have been a trick to keep her near but it was still nice to maintain the illusion of being taken care of. Idle, neglectful, egoistic to a fault, Crocodile probably didn’t even think about that he – deliberately or not – supplied her with something she craved for. 

“Why didn’t you go that day? I didn’t detain you.” 

“You didn’t banish me either.” 

He hummed and didn’t respond – no answer came to his mind, only a picture of the inflexible young woman with short dark hair. The more peculiar it was to watch her grow and develop – and finally come across her new wanted poster: the almond eyes narrowed, long strands slightly disheveled. She was still enthralling – and he might have welcomed her back if she asked nicely. Nico Robin – Ms. All Sunday – was extremely smart: her ideas always served the right purpose. 

Crocodile glanced at one of the rings he was wearing. Sapphire. He gave the necklace to her. She put it on once or twice but he never knew whether it was an act of courtesy, genuine fear, sheer respect or mocking. 

Maybe he should pay her a visit?..


End file.
